Missing
by AllThingsInsane
Summary: AU. When John Winchester fails to return from a routine hunt, his friends Caleb and Jim spring into action. When the results are not what they expected, it is up to them to forge ahead, and raise his two sons in the face of unthinkable tragedy. Underneath the heartache, hope lies just beneath the surface.
1. Chapter 1

_Blue Earth, Minnesota. 1984_

Patience was a virtue, but it was an emotion best suited for the mentally sound. Right then, pacing in his study, fingers flying as he worked through his address book, that was _not _Jim Murphy, pastor of Blue Earth Community Church, who spent his free time hunting the things that went bump in the night.

"Come on, John," he murmured softly, his brows furrowing in concern as he searched out the number of his friend in South Dakota, Bobby Singer.

Their mutual friend, John Winchester, hadn't returned home from a hunt in Alaska. The novice hunter had been missing for almost a week, with no contact between he and any of his few friends.

Looking at the clock, he sighed before dialing the number of Bobby. No doubt it would be late in South Dakota, and the rough and gruff hunter would be none too thrilled to have a call that late, Jim needed help in finding their missing friend.

_"Who the hell is calling this late?" _Bobby's exasperated voice demanded, the second the dial tone had ended and he had picked up the phone.

"Bobby?" Jim's voice practically sagged in relief. "It's John. He left the two boys with me, that was about a week ago, and I haven't heard from him since."

There was a shift in Bobby's previous response, and the one he had when he next spoke. "_What was he hunting?"_

"Simple haunting. It was supposed to be in and out."

"_Poltergeist?"_

"No, just a regular spirit."

John hadn't provided precise details on the hunt that he had been called out on, only that it was an urgent matter that _might _lead to new information on the demon that had killed his wife.

_"Who else have you called?"_

Jim shook his head, even though Bobby had no way of seeing him. "No one else yet. I was just about to call Caleb, see if he heard anything from him."

John was a typically erratic person, but his two sons, Sam and Dean, were his world, his center. He would never _not _call and check up on them, not when they weren't under his constant supervision.

_"Call him. He might know something_," Bobby agreed. _"Or else he'll figure out a game plan." _

"Okay."

Jim sighed, as he hung up with Bobby, running a tired hand over his face as he scrolled through his address book for Caleb's number in Dallas, Texas.

"Unko Jim?" Five-year-old Dean asked, in typical five-year-old speak, as he appeared in the doorway to Jim's private study. "Where's Daddy?"

Jim sighed, as his soft eyes met with the curious ones of the young child. "He's out, Dean. He'll be home very soon."

There was no way he would burden Dean with the knowledge that, in the span of less than a year, he would be faced with losing _both _of his parents.

Dean nodded slowly, as if he didn't quite believe what he was being told. Dean had always been highly intelligent, more so than a child his age _should _be.

It was frightening sometimes.

"Sammy's hungry," Dean stated.

Jim smiled, deciding to hold off on calling Caleb until after his one year old brother was fed. "Okay. Let's go feed him together. Do you think he's up for some apple sauce and some carrots?"

"_He _is," Dean emphasized, as they walked out into the living room where Jim had set up a play area for the boys. "I'm not." He made a face at the disgusting food, and watched carefully as Jim picked Sam up from his playpen, and carried him into the kitchen, with Dean not far behind.

Once the (very) messy dinner was over, Jim cleaned up the high chair and table, with Dean's proud assistance, and then ushered both boys upstairs for their nightly baths and bedtime story.

Thankfully, the boys both fell asleep fairly quickly, giving Jim more time to call Caleb and further investigate John's mysterious disappearance. It didn't bode well that no one had even heard from him in a week.

Sitting down in his study, with the door open in case one of the boys woke up, he began dialing Caleb's number, hoping the younger hunter could shed some light on the situation that he was dangerously close to.

_"Jim?" _Caleb's quiet voice asked, once he had picked up. _"Something wrong?" _

"I'm sorry to call you so late," Jim apologized. "But I have a situation here."

_"What kind of situation?" _Caleb asked, shifting to hunter mode once those words had slipped from Jim's mouth.

"It's John," Jim sighed. "He went looking for a spirit, that was a week ago and I haven't heard anything since."

_"Where are the boys?" _Caleb asked.

"They're with me," Jim assured him.

_"Good. Listen, where was the hunt?" _

"In Alaska."

_"Listen, I'll go and check it out, okay? It's on my way to another job anyway." _

Jim sighed in relief, knowing he could always count on Caleb to help when things went wrong. Even though the young hunter only had a few years head start on John, he was still a capable and skilled hunter, who knew all the tricks of the trade.

"Thank you so much."

_"You know me, I love the game." _

Jim shook his head with a smirk as he hung the phone up. It was late, well past midnight by the time he had hung up with Caleb, and he was exhausted from the up and down worry he had spent all afternoon on.

Climbing up the stairs with a sigh, he was relieved to see the sanctuary of his bedroom and all the peace and comfort it offered him, as he slipped into his bed clothes, and beneath the warm covers.

The last thoughts he had, before sleep stole him, was where John could possibly be, and what had taken him away from his precious boys for a week without so much as a phone call.

It was troubling, but he was determined to put it behind him, at least until the morning when his conscience would be clearer.


	2. Chapter 2

Owning and operating his own weapons dealing business, allowed Caleb Rivers to lead a semi-truthful life, despite the secretive hunting part of his life. It was nice to actually provide a legitimate license to police when, inevitably, they would knock on his door.

After losing his wife and unborn child to a demon some years ago, he had devoted his life to finding and killing all things that people only dreamed about. After getting his start with Bill and Ellen Harvelle, he felt confident enough to start taking on his own cases.

Meeting John Winchester and his two little boys a few months previously, was the icing on the cake he hadn't realized he'd wanted. It was nice to hear the pitter-patters of little feet as they ran and tripped around his shop, laughing to their hearts content.

While he didn't agree with involving little boys on hunting trips, or leaving them alone in sketchy motel rooms, it wasn't his place to argue and he knew it. When he got the call from Jim that John was missing, he wasn't entirely surprised, and he wasn't surprised that John would jump at the chance to take a hunt that was both dangerous _and _far away from backup.

But Alaska was close to another job he had lined up. It wasn't a stretch to drive into one of their sleepy towns, and search out the new hunter and see what he came up with.

When he rolled into the backwoods town, the first thing he did, was check into his own motel and set up his vast array of research equipment; then he started manning the phones.

"Thank you so much, have a good day," he said, as he hung up with the motel that John had checked into. A few well-placed words and he had gotten the room number, as well as the check-in date for when John had arrived.

His next order of business was going to the motel, and searching out the room for evidence. There was nothing too conspicuous about the room at first glance. There was a protective salt line around the doors and windows, and his journal.

John never went anywhere without that thing. It was glued to his side. Picking up the thin journal, he perched on the bed and began leafing through it. There were a few chapters that dealt with his wife's murder, and the latest hunt he had gone on.

"Damn it," Caleb murmured under his breath, seeing the gravity of the situation outlined on the thin pages.

It was a poltergeist, not a regular spirit like John had claimed initially. It upped the search considerably, and it made it all that more severe; writing down the contact info for the couple that John was helping, he put the journal in his bag, and left the room.

When he stepped out of the motel and went down the brick steps, he saw something on the cement that made his heart stop: blood. It wasn't enough to attract attention, but just enough that Caleb was able to pick it up. Bending down, he touched the spot lightly with his fingers, it was still wet to the touch. The stain didn't seem to lead anywhere, not further down the drive, not even into the forest on the other side of the lot.

"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand over his face, as he got into his truck and went back to his own motel room. It didn't bode well for the older hunter, and he knew it.

"Unko Jim?" Dean asked, after lunch had been served. "Is Daddy lost?" His wide hazel eyes were downcast as he voiced that question. It broke Jim's heart.

"No, Dean," he reassured him, even though he was almost certain Dean could see right through his lie.

"That's not how Daddy feeds Sammy," Dean stated, as he watched Jim attempt to feed Sam some of the baby food John had given him.

"Oh, really? How does your Daddy do it?"

Dean took the airplane-shaped spoon from Jim, and imitated airplane noises as he steered the spoon into a mesmerized Sam's open mouth. Grinning victorious, Dean handed the spoon back to Jim, satisfied that he had taught him something about Sam that he hadn't known.

"Do you want to finish feeding him?" Jim asked, seeing how attentive Dean was to his brother, and how much pride he took in that.

"Sure!"

Dean eagerly took the small bowl from Jim. "I can tell Daddy that I helped feed Sammy."

"That's right," Jim nodded.

With a quiet sigh, he put the boys in the living room with a cartoon movie, and went out into the kitchen where he could still see the boys, but conduct his search for their father without them knowing.

His first order of business was to call Caleb and get an update on where he was and what he had found so far. "Caleb?" He asked, when he had finally gotten him on the phone. "What's going on?"

_"I found that journal he uses in his motel room. After I left, I noticed some blood splatters on the cement outside." _

Jim's heart sank faster than a stone into his stomach, as he leaned against the counter. "Was it significant?"

_"It was enough for me to notice it. I'm going to go see the people he was helping right now, figure out when he last communicated with them."_

"Alright. Let me know."

Jim got off the phone, more emotionally exhausted than he had been when he had gotten on. The search for John had taken a turn that he hadn't been prepared to handle at all. It was terrifying to imagine the evils of this world taking yet another life.

Looking out at the boys as they watched their movie, he felt a deep pain circulate in his chest as he gazed at them, as they unknowingly faced losing another parent in less than a year.

It was too cruel for him to even contemplate. He prayed that their little hearts would be spared the pain of such a loss.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the three or four years that Caleb had been actively in the hunting lifestyle, he had learned to perfect his interview skills, and how he approached different people with his questions. More importantly, he had to learn how to maneuver around questions that might expose the truth to some poor, unsuspecting individual.

Walking up the perfectly manicured walk of the couple John had talked to about his hunt, Caleb knew this would be an interview quite unlike any he had ever had before.

Ringing the silver-circular doorbell, he waited patiently for any signs of human life beyond the mansion-type home. When light footsteps finally met his highly trained ears, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief when a middle-aged woman answered the door.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm Caleb Hatch," he recited, using his familiar alias. "I was wondering if you could tell me if one of my friends visited you recently?"

The woman looked confused, before the hospitality she had clearly been taught, overcame her. "Well, of course. Come on in, and I can see what I can do for you."

"Thank you."

Caleb stepped into the impressive foyer of the home, petting her hyper dogs, before she led him into a sitting room that was situated directly off the foyer.

"So you were wondering about one of your friends?" She inquired, as she offered him coffee, which he accepted.

"Yeah. He was around probably a few days ago, maybe asking some questions about your home?" If it was a poltergeist, they typically liked to make their homes in other's homes, somewhere the beast had personal history.

"Oh, yes! John Withgow. Such a nice man. We called a repair man because we were hearing some noises in our upstairs attic, and he showed up."

"Oh. Okay." Caleb bent over, writing down the crucial information in his own hunting journal. "Did he get rid of the noises that were up in your attic?"

"We assume he did," the woman shrugged. "He didn't want us in the house while he was taking care of it, so we left. When we came back, everything was better."

Caleb nodded slowly. "Okay. Have you heard anything from him since then?"

The woman shook her head, unaware of how crucial that shake of her head was. "No. Is something wrong?"

"No," Caleb assured her. "Of course not. When was the last time you heard from him?"

"About four days ago, right before he came over here."

Caleb thanked her for her time, and then left. He had gotten all the information he could have gotten out of her, and it was crucial, too. Four days was a long time. Any number of things could have happened to him in that span of time, and he knew it.

The poltergeist could have injured him, he could be lying injured somewhere. The monster could have, worst case scenario, killed him and his body was lying in some ditch somewhere.

Calling all the local hospitals seemed like the next best case option, as he returned to his motel room, picked up the phone book the motel had provided, and began making his calls.

There were only five hospitals in the area, and of course no one had heard of a John Withgow, or admitted anyone matching John's description. After hanging up with the fifth and last hospital with no luck, he ran his hand over his face in frustration, as he thought about his next course of action.

Picking up the motel phone again, he dialed Jim's number in Minnesota. He knew he couldn't make any other decisions without cluing Jim in on the status for the search.

_"Caleb?" _

"Hey, Jim."

_"Have you found anything yet?" _

"I talked to the people that he was helping with the poltergeist, and they said that they last spoke with him about four days ago."

_"What about the hospitals?" _

"I called all of them. They haven't heard anything, or admitted anyone with his description."

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. Caleb guessed it was due in large part to Jim contemplating their next plan of action.

_"What about the county morgues?"_

"I haven't wanted to even look there. It seems too soon, but I'm not sure."

_"We've run out of options," _Jim said. _"Call me and let me know what happens." _

Caleb nodded. "Alright."

After he hung up with Jim, he propped open John's journal on his lap and began further examining it for evidence that he had missed on the first read through.

"Cattle deaths in Wyoming, Alaska," Caleb read under his breath, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Electrical storms through Wisconsin..."

While Caleb knew those signs to sometimes be demonically related, he had no idea if it was supposed to signal the demon that killed John's wife, or not.

He had to believe it was, and John had bitten off more than he could chew.

With a heavy sigh, he unwillingly pulled the heavy motel-issued phonebook on his lap, and began searching out the county morgues for new information.

"Hi," he said, speaking heavily into the phone, as the helper came on the line. "I was wondering if you could give me some information about a deceased individual you might have there."

He listened for further instructions, and then provided the identification details for John in order to possibly ID him. The minutes that dragged on seemed to last like the longest clock in the world, as he waited for the person to come back on.

_"Sir, we do have a deceased male that matches the description that you just gave to us. If you would be willing to come down to our office, and formally ID the body, that would be appreciated." _

Caleb sucked back the bile that had suddenly formulated in his mouth, and sighed heavily. "Okay," he finally said, once he was sure his vocal cords worked. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

His first thought once he had gotten off the phone, was to call Jim and inform him of the latest developments, but he didn't want to cause him undue worry before he had any positive identification of the body.

Getting up from the bed, he shrugged on his coat, grabbed his car keys, and went to ID the body of his possibly deceased friend.


	4. Chapter 4

In the years since Caleb had started hunting, he had been forced to make many different trips to the medical examiner's office to investigate cases, and ID mangled corpses that demons had torn apart.

But this was different. This was personal.

It was unlike any visit he had made before, and he knew it.

Walking into the cold and impersonal front reception area, he paced the room, waiting for the technician to come and take him back to the viewing rooms. It was an unforgivable task, and he cowardly wished that anyone could do it but him.

"Hello." A middle-aged man in his forties had walked out of one of the back rooms, his hand outstretched. "I'm Mark Allen. I spoke with you on the phone?"

"Yes. Caleb Hatch nice to meet you."

He wasn't in the mood for phony pleasantries. He wanted, as hard as it would be, to get into that room and see the body for himself and determine if it was his friend or not.

"Follow me," the man calmly instructed, no doubt used to escorting grieving family members back to those cold rooms. "I have to warn you," he added, as they stopped outside the door marked "private." "The body was found in an extremely traumatic state."

Caleb swallowed back the tennis-ball sized lump in his throat and nodded. "Okay." It wouldn't make a difference to him-he had to know for sure, before he went back to Blue Earth and shattered what remained of those boys' world.

The frigid cold temperature that assaulted his senses when he walked into the room, was like being doused in a bucket of ice, but he ignored it as he watched the man pull out the tray holding the body.

For a split second, he hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what was on there, he wasn't sure if he wanted to face what it would mean if his worst fears were realized.

Sucking in a breath, he squared his shoulders and walked foreword. The sight that met his eyes, wasn't completely unexpected, but it still momentarily stole his breath, as he stared down at John's wide, unseeing eyes, the light gone from them.

"Sir?"

Caleb nodded by some superhuman effort, even though most of his body had been thrown into a complete state of shock. "Yes. It's him."

* * *

As part of his training as a pastor, Jim had been trained that emotions, even negative ones like hatred and frustration, were all natural, as long as he handled them appropriately. Right then, glancing at the farm-shaped clock in his kitchen, he was getting frustrated.

It had been almost a day since he had last heard from Caleb. The last he knew, he was going to the morgue to check out a potential victim that matched John's description, but that was the last he knew.

Not that he had any serious time to mull over these concerns. The boys demanded almost all of his time, especially Sam. Dean, for the most part, could feed himself with Jim's careful supervision, of course, and even helped with Sammy.

But Sam was another matter. At barely a year old, he still couldn't walk quite yet, and had to be changed and fed constantly. Thankfully, he was a quiet baby, never really making a fuss unless he felt alone, or was hungry or needed a change.

"That's his wet cry," Dean stated simply, listening to the mew-like cries that were coming from his baby brother.

Jim turned and smiled at him. Even though every nerve he had was on edge, there was no way he would let Dean in on that, no way he would let the child know that something might be wrong with his daddy. "Is that so?"

"Mommy taught me," he said, his sweet hazel eyes downcast at the thought of his mother, a person that was there one night, and gone only a few hours later. It had to be so confusing to the five-year-old.

"She taught you well."

Dean hardly ever smiled-he reserved that megawatt smile for when his father or brother were in his immediate company. "Mommy teached me a lot," he said, using typical five-year-old grammar. It was cute, and also touching to see how proud he was of being his Mommy's helper, and now Jim's.

"Well, do you want to be my assistant?"

"Okay. I know Sammy better than you do, anyway."

The comment wasn't meant to be hurtful or judgmental, and Jim knew it. He also knew how protective Dean was of Sam, and how much pride he took in caring for him.

"You'll have to teach me."

"Okay," Dean shrugged. "It's not that hard."

Jim was anxious to get the boys to bed and finish their nightly routines. Dean had been asking at intervals where his Dad was and when he would be back. It had been hard not being able to provide a definitive answer.

"Come on, Caleb," he muttered to himself in annoyance.

The fact he hadn't heard from him, didn't worry him as much as it irritated him. He knew that Caleb was perfectly fine, but it irked him that he wasn't getting any feedback.

Going back downstairs after making sure both boys were fast asleep, he settled himself on the sofa. When the distant sounds of a rumbling car or truck engine caught his attention, he strained his eyes to see if the sound was approaching _his _driveway.

It was.

Sighing in relief, he wrenched himself up from the sofa, and went to the front door to meet whoever had decided to drop in on him on such short notice.

"Caleb?" He started in surprise, when he saw the younger hunter walking up the path to his house. "I didn't-"

"I didn't think we should talk about this over the phone," Caleb explained, brushing past Jim as he walked into the house.

"Talk about _what? _John?"

Caleb nodded, his normally bright brown eyes, unusually red and misty as he turned to face his friend.

"John is dead."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I realize that in the first chapter I put the date as 1983. I realized, looking back, that was a mistake on my part since it would have been a little into 1984 when John died, so I went back and changed the date. **


	5. Chapter 5

When Dean woke up the next morning, the guys pretended, for his benefit, that everything was normal, as they poured him his favorite sugary cereal, and made him a glass of orange juice, despite his protests.

"Orange juice is yucky!" Dean spat, as he gulped down the drink under Caleb's careful supervision.

"It's also really good for you," Caleb pointed out. "Just like your wheaties are."

"They're also lucky," Dean pouted. "I like meat!"

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a good eater, Dean."

"Like Daddy!"

Dean was oblivious to the looks the three men gave each other at his seemingly innocent comment. They hadn't yet figured out what they would tell him, but they knew it had to come sooner rather than later.

"Yeah," Jim said quietly. "Your Daddy would be proud of you."

"When is he coming home? I miss him," Dean said, averting his gaze from the looks of the three men.

"Dean," Bobby began, running his hand under his jaw. "We have to tell you something about your daddy."

Dean's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he looked from one to the other, until he finally focused on Bobby again. "Did Daddy get hurt?"

Jim shook his head, not willing to go into that kind of detail with a five-year-old. "Your Mommy, she missed him very much, and she wanted to see him."

Dean swallowed forcibly. "Daddy went to be with the angels?"

"He did," Bobby said quietly. "He went to be with your Mommy in Heaven."

"Daddy should be with Mommy," Dean said bravely. "He misses her lots."

Jim was in awe of Dean's bravery and his selflessness in terms of his father and his mother. "He did, Dean, but he loved you and Sammy more than anything."

"Mommy's an angel, right?"

Bobby nodded. "I guess she is."

"Because Daddy always used to call Mommy his angel, now she can be his angel again?"

"She can," Jim softly affirmed.

Dean's soft hazel eyes shifted over to his baby brother who was happily eating his rice cereal, completely unaware of the tragedy that had befallen his young life once again, and the complete state of turmoil his brother had been thrust into again.

"Sammy won't know Mommy or Daddy," Dean said sadly.

"He'll know them from us," Jim said. "He'll know only the best memories of them."

Dean shrugged, as he picked up his spoon and started eating again.

"You can also write down your memories of them," Bobby suggested. "It might give you something to do, and give him something to keep later on."

Dean nodded, his hazel eyes unexpectedly filling with tears, before Caleb smoothly picked Dean up and brought him onto his lap.

"It's okay, bud," Caleb said quietly, rubbing his back in soft, soothing circles.

Dean didn't say anything as he fisted Caleb's shirt in his small hand, only wept as he stained the shirt with his tears.

"Dean?" Jim began, after Dean had crawled down from Caleb's lap. "Are you okay?"

Dean didn't answer. He bent down to play with Sam, who was engrossed in the toy blocks he had been given. "Sammy can't make a castle," he said, looking up at the three adults in the room.

"He'll learn," Bobby reassured him. "Just give him some time, and one of your handy lessons."

"Okay."

Dean remained quiet the duration of the afternoon. He only spoke when spoken to, or when he helped Sam complete a task that he needed help with. The guys figured that if they involved Dean as much as they could in tasks, especially ones that helped his brother, it would help Dean out of the shell he had tucked himself into.

"What about school?" Caleb asked. "Do we feel comfortable sending him to preschool?"

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," Jim said tiredly. It had been a long day. "Are you going back to Dallas?"

"Just to pack up and then I'm heading back here."

Jim nodded. "Okay. Bobby's going to stay here until you get back."

"Okay."

Jim noticed a change in Dean when Dean hugged Caleb goodbye. It was as if Dean was afraid of getting close to Caleb for fear of losing him. It was heartbreaking to watch the change in him begin already.

"Caleb's going to be back, Dean," Jim assured him, as he tucked him into his bed.

"How do you know?" Dean challenged.

"Because I do," Jim said firmly, looking over at the crib on the other side of the room where Sam was already dozing peacefully.

One thing he knew they had to do was make it so the boys could have separate rooms when the dust had settled and things were calmer for them all.

"Goodnight," Dean said quietly, rubbing his eye with his fist.

"Goodnight, Dean."

* * *

**Sorry this chapter was smaller than the others. I had a hard time figuring out the length and what, especially, the guys would tell Dean. **


	6. Chapter 6

Grief through the eyes of a child was a strangely fascinating, but tragic thing to bear witness to. Some asked questions, that was normal for a curious, naturally eager child, some were silent, asking little, but observing and _absorbing _everything that went on around them.

Dean was one of the quiet ones. He rarely asked questions, instead he contented himself with sitting back and watching as the grownups conversed amongst each other.

It was heartbreaking to watch a normally outgoing kid, retreat further back into the protective shell he had placed around himself when his mother had first died. It was hard to watch him regress backwards.

"Why did Daddy die?" Dean asked one afternoon, a few weeks after John had died. He and Jim had finished playing with Sammy, and were cleaning up the markers and crayons he had littered all over the floor.

Jim stared at him, never recalling saying in those _exact _words that John had died. He thought those words would be far too morbid for a child to understand, but Dean, as per usual, was way too smart for his age.

"Well, Dean, how did you-"

"I _know _what that means," Dean said with an uncharacteristic (for his age) scoff. "I watch TV. The same thing happened to Mommy," he stated matter-of-factly, as if Jim didn't understand that.

"It did," Jim said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You know, Dean, your Daddy helped people."

Dean's eyes widened in barely contained awe as he leaned foreword, hanging on to Jim's every word now. "He _did_?"

"And while he was helping someone, the angels decided that he was far too good, and that he needed to be with them, with your Mommy."

"And grandma and grandpa," Dean reminded him.

Jim nodded. "That's right."

Dean was quiet for several minutes as he processed the plethora of information he had just received. For many children, it would be too much, but for his age, Dean had seen way much more than he should have.

It had cruelly matured him beyond his five short years, but it had also gifted him with a brain that most children _didn't _have.

After that, Jim, as well as Caleb and Bobby, noticed a marked difference in the five-year-old, as he played with Sam with much more gusto, and seemed actively interested in the things that were going on around him, especially when it came to school and the renovation of one of the upstairs guest rooms that was being transformed into a bedroom for he and Sam.

"Batman is the best," Dean stated one afternoon, as he walked into the freshly painted bedroom, wrinkling his nose in distaste of the smell, as he looked up at Caleb as he painted the wall.

"Indeed he is," Caleb agreed. "Not like those puny other superheroes."

Dean shook his head. "Nah. Batman would kick the other's butts!"

Caleb stifled a laugh as he put down the brush in the tray. "Are you excited to go see Uncle Bobby tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

It had been agreed that the boys would spend the weekend with Bobby since both Caleb and Jim had work and hunting commitments up on the plate at the same time.

"Are you going to play hide and seek with the cars?"

"Yeah. I have to teach Sammy."

"You do that."

Dean had been so depressed that it was nice seeing an actual smile grace his face at the thought of going to Bobby's, and teaching his brother something new.

With a grin, Caleb fingered a small bit of blue paint and dabbed it on Dean's nose. "Now you look like Batman."

"I do," Dean smiled. "If I had a cape, I could be _just _like him."

Caleb shook his head in amusement. "You look pretty authentic to me."

"That's because you're _supposed _to say that," Dean reminded him.

The next day was rough. Caleb and Jim both had to wake up early in order to get the boys up and ready for the long journey ahead of them. Sam slept through most of the preparations, while Dean lingered around the guys, sleepily observing their work as he hovered around Caleb or Jim's legs.

"Okay, Dean," Caleb said, knowing how much Dean needed to feel like he had a job. "Can you take this cooler out to the car for me?"

"You bet!"

Caleb handed him the light cooler, before bringing some more snacks from the road out and placing them in the front seat. He had no idea that taking two boys on a several hour car journey would be so stressful logistics wise.

It almost made him rethink their plan.

Almost.

The eager looks from both boys, kept him on the original plan as he loaded more gear into the car before getting into the driver's seat.

"What kind of songs should we listen to?"

"AC/DC," Dean said proudly. "They're the best."

"Okay," Jim agreed hesitantly, clearly not used to listening to that kind of music, especially rock music.

"Sure you'll be forgiven?" Caleb asked mock seriously as he put in the tape.

Jim ignored him as the heavy bass and drums from the songs filled the car. Dean was in his element as he rocked in his car seat to the beat of the music.

Before too long (and to their relief), both boys fell asleep soon after lunch.

* * *

**Whoa, sorry this chapter was so late in the making! I promise updates will be a lot closer together after this!**


	7. Chapter 7

"Uncle" Bobby's eccentric home in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, was as unusual a house as any normal visitor would ever see: Books on hunting lore stacked to the ceiling, multiple phone lines in the kitchen that ran a constant line of communication between he and any other person that needed his expert help.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked, as he ambled over to Bobby, and perched himself on his worn couch. "What's this book?"

He innocently held out a thick volume that dealt with the supernatural world's most dangerous and feared creature, the hellhound. Capable of tearing a person to shreds without barely blinking.

"That," Bobby said, reaching for the book and putting it safely out of Dean's curious hands. "Is a very special book for grown ups."

"Why?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because there are some things a snot nosed little brat like yourself can't look at right now," Bobby said teasingly. "In time, though," he added, seeing Dean's little face fall in disappointment.

"Can I teach Sammy how to play hide and go seek?"

"I think that would be a great idea," Bobby agreed. "Just be careful, make sure he doesn't go near those stairs."

"Okay."

Having the boys playing quietly while he made return calls to contacts, all the while preparing dinner for them, was nice. He never entirely stopped worrying about them, but childproofing the house as much as possible, went a long ways in easing his anxiety about it.

"Sammy fell," Dean said, his little feet clattering across the wood flooring as he held Sam's tearful hand. "He tripped on the floor," he added, looking resentfully at Bobby, as though Bobby should have known about the floor and fixed it.

"Let me see," Bobby said, kneeling down in front of the one year old and checking his leg for injuries. "Well, Dean, it looks like he just scraped it. He's lucky."

A Dinosaur bandage later, and some juice, and Sam was happily eating his fries and burger that Bobby had cut up for him. Dean, of course, hadn't let go of his brother's injury and kept checking him anxiously, as though he was afraid Sam would suddenly disappear.

"Can you fix the floor tonight?" He inquired when dinner was over, and Bobby was preparing them for their evening baths.

"I'll do my best."

Bath time was the usual fun affair, as Sam made every opportunity to splash his way out of the tub. Bedtime was slower, more quieter as Bobby went about a familiar routine he had established with the boys before John had died, and read to them, before leaving one light on for their security, and turning the rest off.

"Goodnight," Dean slurred, already half asleep, as he rolled over on his side, clutching his own pillow tightly to his chest.

"Goodnight, idjit," Bobby replied, with a rare smile on his face, before softly shutting the door behind him.

It had been a few days since Jim and Caleb had dropped the boys off, and needless to say, those two boys had exhausted Bobby. He was used to working at all hours of the night to satisfy the demands and needs of the people he helped, but being responsible for the lives of two toddlers, was another thing.

"What are you looking at?" He said, rolling his eyes at his dog, Rumsfeld as the dog lounged lazily at his feet.

Of course Caleb and Jim had called twice, maybe three times a day to check in on the boys, and Bobby couldn't blame them. Losing John had been a shock to all of them, and none of them were eager to repeat the experience over again.

"Hello?" He grumbled into the phone when it rang off the hook, assuming of course that it was one of the guys checking in again. He was beginning to wonder if they trusted him with the boys.

_Bobby?_

"Rufus?" He adjusted the phone deeper into the crook of his shoulder. He and Rufus Turner had been friends long before he knew John, Caleb or Jim. The two hadn't talked in years, not since an accident where someone Rufus had loved, had died.

_You told me to keep you posted on things, and call if I needed help. I don't need help, per se, but I found something that might interest you._

"And what's that?"

He wasn't in the mood to hear about his crazy ramblings and theories. He was thrilled to hear from his friend, but not at the cost of his sanity and whatever sleep he could be enjoying.

_Some crazy ass storms up here, Bobby, electrical shortages, some fires in family style homes._

Bobby felt his blood run cold, and not from the faulty furnace that he needed to fix. "Say that again."

_I recognized the signs, and I remembered hearing that John Winchester had been killed a few weeks ago. I put two and two together-_

"Congratulations, you learned math," Bobby said dryly. "Now get to the part that was so important you had to call me at ten at night."

_"That demon, the one that's causing all of these power storms is where you are, Bobby. Right there in Sioux Falls."_


	8. Chapter 8

The life of a hunter was always unpredictable. At any minute, you could be faced with a quick life or death decision, one that you had to make to be smarter, to be on top of the enemy so they wouldn't kill you.

When hunters were entrusted with the lives of their own children, or children that had, by some matter or another, dropped into their hands and immediate danger presented itself, it didn't matter if those children were blood related or not, they were family and they had to be protected at all costs.

Most hunters saw children as innocent victims of the hunting lifestyle, and so saw a moral obligation to protect them above anything or _anyone _else.

For Bobby, it was a little more personal than just feeling an "obligation" to protect Sam and Dean. The boys were like family, so was their father. When John had died, Bobby, Caleb and Jim had sworn to each other to protect them at all costs, to make sure they grew up safe and loved.

"Uncle Bobby, where are we going?" Dean wondered, his voice thick with sleep as Bobby guided him outside into the crisp evening night, as he quickly strapped Dean and his brother into their respective car seats.

"We're going on a journey, Dean," Bobby answered, trying to inject as much excitement into his voice as possible. "Do you have your blanket and snacks?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good."

Dean was calm, as per usual when situations became stressful. He was almost silent as he snuggled against his blanket, his sharp, observant eyes watching everything Bobby was doing as he started up the car and pulled out of his salvage yard, and on to the main highway out of town.

"Sammy's hungry," Dean stated, after a few mindless hours of driving down the highway, passing hundreds, maybe thousands of cars.

"Does he have some of the animal crackers I packed?"

"Yeah. Can I give him some?"

"Sure."

It was touching to look in the rearview mirror and see Dean tenderly feed Sam animal crackers, and then share his blanket with him. Brotherly love was a special, unique bond, and Bobby felt privileged to be an observer to that.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked a few hours later.

"To a friend's house," Bobby answered.

Truth was, he had considered making the shorter trip back to Blue Earth where Caleb and Jim were, but any demon that would be watching them, would know that would be where Bobby would be inclined to go first.

"Oh. Are they nice?" Dean asked.

"Very. And they have a little girl about your age."

"Really?"

Bobby chuckled at the enthusiasm in the five-year-old's voice. Dean was nothing if not his father's son through and through, and that included his father's natural affinity for women.

"Really," Bobby affirmed.

His friends, Bill and Ellen Harvelle, lived in Nebraska. A nice long distance from Sioux Falls, and most importantly, any demon that would be searching out the boys.

After that, both boys fell asleep, much to Bobby's relief. It gave him a chance to _think. _It gave him a chance to think over his next course of action. After he got the boys to safety, he wasn't sure what his next steps would be.

It was well after dawn when Bobby, at long last, pulled off the freeway and onto the more rural area of Nebraska, where his friends lived. It was a long drive, but worth it if it meant keeping Sam and Dean safe.

When he saw the turnoff to the Harvelle's road, he breathed a private sigh of relief. They lived on a well isolated stretch of land, that was far removed from the main road, and far removed from any stragglers that might come.

"Dean," Bobby said, reaching back and shaking Dean's knee. "We're here, buddy."

"Okay," the child said, barely controlling a yawn as he rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists. "Should I wake Sammy up?"

"You can, or you can let him sleep," Bobby shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

As he pulled up to the modestly-sized two-story house, he saw Bill, in his typical white cowboy hat, and his wife, Ellen, standing on the wraparound porch.

"Bobby, finally," Ellen said, when Bobby first stepped foot outside the car. "We were starting to get worried about you."

"You lie through your teeth," Bobby grumbled, pulling on his trademark trucker cap as he helped the boys out of the car, balancing Sam on his hip, as Dean shyly stuck to Bobby's side.

"You do, she doesn't," Bill laughed, walking down the steps to meet his friend. "Who are these little rascals?"

"This is Dean," Bobby said, rubbing Dean's back. "And Sammy."

Ellen smiled at both boys, before shifting Sam into her arms, making cute faces at him while he giggled happily at the new friend that was holding him.

Bill, on the other hand, gravitated toward Dean and got down on his level. "What do you say, Dean, you want to be my helper while you're here?"

Dean nodded. "Okay."

"It's settled."

"Where's Jo?" Bobby asked, as they all congregated inside the house and around Ellen's massive island counter, that was full of all the fixings for a good afternoon lunch.

"She's over at her friend's house," Bill said. "Real nice family, we've known them a few years."

"Ah."

As the small group sat down to enjoy their lunch, Dean firmly stuck by Bobby's side as he quietly ate his sandwich, while making sure that his brother ate, too. It was touching to watch how in tune Dean was with his brother, and how protective over him he was, too.

"Is it okay if I leave them here until I talk to Caleb and Jim?" Bobby asked.

"Of course," Ellen said. "We're family, Bobby, and that includes these two now."

"I really appreciate it."

It eased a lot of his worries, and it gave him a chance to track down Caleb or Jim and see how they wanted to progress.

"Are you leaving?" Dean asked, looking up as Bobby got ready to leave.

"I'm afraid so, bud, but you're going to have a lot of fun with Ellen and Bill, and Jo when she comes back home."

"Okay," Dean finally said.


	9. Chapter 9

Watching with his keen hazel eyes as Bobby drove away, Dean couldn't help the sense of fear that settled deep into his chest. It wasn't that he didn't trust the people that Bobby had entrusted him with, it was the fact that it was possible that when Bobby left, he wouldn't come back.

First his mother, then his father, and now Bobby. Thankfully and luckily for him, Ellen and Bill more than made up for their absence, by their kind and inviting manner.

Ellen, with her knack for cooking, which she included her daughter and Dean in, and Bill, with his loud and boisterous ways, quickly eased some of Dean's fears, as he tried to settled into a new kind of routine with them.

First up, was dinner, as Ellen patiently explained to her young audience, how to make homemade pasta from scratch. Luckily, Dean and Jo were quick studies, and in minutes, had the finer points of it down, as she helped them stir and mix a variety of ingredients together.

"You guys, this is delicious," Bill said, his mouth already full to the brim with the pasta, as he sprinkled some more cheese on it.

"Close your mouth," Ellen scolded, throwing Dean and Jo a secretive glance that reduced them to hysterical giggles.

"What, a man can't chew and talk at the same time?"

Ellen simply shook her head at his comment.

After that, Bill took the kids outside to expel all their energy and get them ready for bed. Sam stuck close to Dean's side, not feeling quite confident enough to venture out further with Jo or Bill.

"Do you want to play hide and go seek, Sammy?" Dean asked, bending down to his baby brother's leve. "Can we play that?" He asked, looking at Bill for his permission.

Even though this man wasn't his parent, or even his guardian, he had been taught by his father to always respect authority figures, no matter if they were new to the picture, or someone he had known his entire life.

"Sure, buddy, just be careful," Bill warned, "and stay close to the deck."

The Harvelles had a raised porch that had a wraparound deck to house barbecues and pool parties. Underneath the deck, a selection of friendly wildlife made their home.

Bill stood back, watching carefully as the two brothers hid from each other, or rather, Dean hid from Sam, while Sam confusedly looked around for his brother.

"He doesn't know how to play," Dean said, crawling out from underneath the deck.

"He'll learn once he's a little older," Bill promised. "In the meantime, do you want to head back up to the house? It looks like it might rain."

"Okay," Dean shrugged.

"Do you want to race back?" Bill asked, a smile gracing his father.

"Yeah!"

Safely gripping Sam so he wouldn't fall, Bill, Jo and Dean made a run for the house, seeing who would reach it first.

"I win!" Jo yelled, her little body jumping up and down in frenzied excitement. "I win, Daddy!"

"You did," he agreed, pausing to catch his breath.

"Take _that_," she added, pointing at Dean.

Dean responded by simply sticking his tongue out at her, before following Bill and Sam into the house.

Upstairs, Bill staged an impromptu pillow fight, which all three kids enjoyed, before he settled Dean and Sam in their room, which they were sharing for security reasons, as well as comfort reasons, and put Jo in her room.

"Goodnight, guys," Bill said.

"Can you please leave the light on?" Dean asked softly.

"Sure, bud," Bill smiled. "Sleep tight."

* * *

**I know this chapter was long overdue, and I'm so sorry. Lots of personal things going on that I won't bore all of you with. Anyhow, enjoy this chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

Caleb and Jim arrived early the next day. It had been a fun, albeit terrifying experience for Dean, not knowing if the guys were okay or not, but when he saw them walk through the door behind Ellen, his fears instantly evaporated.

In the day and a half since Bobby had dropped them off, he had been petrified that something would happen to them, just like something had happened to his parents.

It was a burden that had been unwillingly placed on his innocent shoulders by the actions of one demon, and one revenge-crazy father that had instilled in his head to _always _look out for Sammy, to always make sure he was safe.

"You're back," he said, running toward the guys when they dropped their stuff, and got down on the ground to properly greet Dean and Sam.

Sam, not being able to walk yet, made do with what he had, and crawled toward the guys, his mouth open in a goofy grin as he tried to match the pace his older brother had set.

"Yeah, we are," Caleb said, balancing Dean on his knee. "Was everything okay?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I made sure Sammy was good."

Caleb chuckled. "I'm sure you did a great job, too."

Dean glowed with pride at the compliment. "Are we going home?"

It wasn't that he didn't like being at Ellen and Bill's-he did, but he was far too used to his home in Blue Earth, and switching to yet another location, would have been too hard on his tiny brain.

"You bet. We just have to talk with them for a minute, and then we'll take off. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

Ellen took the boys and Jo outside to play while the guys gathered around the dining table to discuss what had taken place.

"What happened?" Bill asked, passing around shots of Tequila.

"There were some signs of the demon, but they were mostly gone by the time we got there," Jim said, shaking his head. "But we searched around the area, and we didn't see any sign."

"So it got that you were looking-"

"And it vanished," Caleb said. "But before we got there, there were some more deaths, more fires."

Most demons had the same MO as far as patterns and behaviors were concerned, but this demon that singlehandedly destroyed Sam and Dean's lives, operated much differently than a regular demon.

It caused fires. Its target were homes with infants in them, family's like the ones that Sam and Dean had once upon a time.

"What are thinking?" Bill asked.

"How we're going to give these boys as much of a normal life as we can, while still making sure they're safe."

"They start school soon," Jim said. "Do we even dare send them there when this demon is out there?"

Bill shrugged, clearly not familiar with this predicament. "Is there any way one of you can be there when they're at school?"

"Caleb can, but what if he can't one day?"

"Just take it a day at a time."

That seemed to be the most logical answer that they could come up with. It was hard to figure out how to outwit the demon and not cause any harm to come to Sam and Dean.

"Thanks for taking the boys at such notice," Caleb said. "We really appreciate it."

"No problem," Bill said. "We're family."

* * *

The boys were more than thrilled to be able to go home with the guys, but both were exhausted from their journey, and each reacted differently.

Dean was more subdued, quietly gazing out the window at the darkening sky, munching on his grapes that Ellen had given to him.

Sam, on the other hand, screamed and cried his disgruntlements until Dean, trying in vain to keep him quiet, offered him some of his food, which Sam happily took, seeming to forget all about his exhaustion and frustration, as he happily munched on the food.

"Dean, see if you can sing to him," Caleb said, when he heard Sam's faint whimpers, signaling trouble was near.

"Okay."

When Dean started singing to his brother, the effect was instant. His eyelids began to droop, his hand that was holding the food, sagged, and his eyes began to close.

"Good job, bud," Caleb said.

"Thanks."

Soon after that, Dean, too fell asleep, lulled to sleep by the motion of the moving car, and his own tiredness from the events of the day.

It had been a long few days.


	11. Chapter 11

_1 Year Later _

It had been a roller coaster year of emotions, ups and downs, highs and lows. It had been a little over a year since Caleb, Pastor Jim and Bobby Singer had taken over responsibility for Sam and Dean Winchester, following the death of their father, John Winchester on a hunt.

Their goal had been to raise the two boys as normal as possible. Something their father had been incapable of providing for them, in his revenge-obsessed mind.

It had been a nice thought.

For awhile, things had progressed normally, apart from the demonic threat that had been posed to the boy's soon after their father's death. They had even been allowed the chance to experience school, and actual friends.

But life in the hunting world, no matter how loosely you were in it, always caught up to you in some way or another. It happened unexpectedly, and ended as soon as it had happened.

Salt lines always lined the windows and doors in the house, a precaution that the guys had thought was essential, especially in the boy's rooms, where anything could happen.

Dean, behaving like a naturally inquisitive six-year-old, had unknowingly ruined the line when he had run his dump truck over the line, severing the precious peace that the line represented.

It had gone unnoticed for most of the day. Jim was at work, Caleb, taking Dean to his half-day Kindergarten class, and making sure that Sam was fed and cared for in the hustle and bustle of the day.

"Okay, you ready to go take a nap?" Caleb asked, picking Sam up and beginning to climb the stairs to his shared bedroom with Dean.

"No," Sam said, though his smile contradicted his statement.

He had just started talking, through the only word he really knew how to pronounce was "no."

When Caleb stepped over the blue carpeted threshold, the first thing he noticed was the glass shards on the window sill that was positioned almost exactly across from the crib.

Heart hammering painfully in his ribcage, he deposited Sam safely in his crib, and walked further to examine the window.

"Damnit," Caleb swore under his breath, when he saw the disturbed salt line.

His back had been to the closet, when the doors had been eased open quietly, so as not to alert Caleb to the fact that there was another person in that room.

The attack had come out of nowhere. The demon had leaped out, knocking Caleb to the ground. Instead of trying to finish him off, he had made a baleen to the crib.

Reacting with the catlike reflexes he had honed for almost ten years, he jumped to his feet, slamming into the intruder with a brute-like force that momentarily stunned him, before he regained his senses.

Caleb, on the other hand, bruised and battered from being slammed around by the demon so much, raised his hand, ready to begin the ancient ritual that had been passed down to him from countless generations of hunters.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," he recited, focusing every inch of his will power on the demon, as it leered at him, before punching him solidly in the face "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio-"

It turned out that, like some other demons, the full exorcism wasn't needed. A steady cloud of black smoke rose from the demon's mouth, with a horrendous scream on the demon's part, before its host body collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Caleb had a split second to be shocked, before his senses clicked into high gear, and he crossed the room in one swift movement, grabbing Sam from his crib, and making sure he wasn't hurt.

"Sammy?"

His blood ran cold when he heard Dean's voice, usually curious, but now confused and frightened, as he took in the scene before him. Caleb hadn't had time to clean the body up in the few seconds since the attack had ended.

"Dean."

"What happened?"

* * *

The attack had scarred them all. Dean, being the most affected by what he had witnessed. It was the exact thing that the guys had wanted to avoid, and now that it had stared them in the face, they were at a loss as to how to explain to Dean what he had just seen.

"How's he holding up?" Jim asked, his hands folded in front of his face as he watched Caleb take a seat in front of him.

"Okay. He didn't want to sleep in that room again, so I put him in my room. He doesn't want Sammy sleeping in there, either. I set up the crib in there, and Dean and I are sharing the bed."

Jim nodded. "Good."

"What are we going to tell him?"

"I don't know."

Realistically, they knew that the time would have to come eventually, when they told the boys about the supernatural world that their father had been embroiled in, and the legacy they had inherited from him.

They just didn't expect it to happen so suddenly.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was playing quietly in the living room, his hazel eyes avoiding the staircase where he knew the bedrooms lead. He wasn't ready to venture up there yet, even though he had been assured he wouldn't have to sleep in that room again.

The scariest thing was, he didn't know what he had seen. His brain, still developing reasoning skills, had managed to grasp that a man, a _dead _man, had been lying on the ground, a pool of blood underneath him.

The window was broken, someone must have been bad and had broken it to get in. But why? Why would someone want to come into his bedroom, the one that he shared with his little brother?

"Dean?"

He looked up, Caleb and Jim had come into the room, and had settled themselves on the floor next to him. Both wore the same expressions he had been used to for a year now, but something was different.

Maybe they wanted to talk about what had happened that afternoon.

"Hi."

He bowed his head, focusing on his Superman action figures that he purposefully laid out on the ground, the better to organize them the way he wanted.

"Can you look at us for a minute, bud?" Jim asked, his voice gentle.

Dean acquiesced, looking up at his guardians with a wary expression on his face, no doubt ready to hear whatever other bad news they were about to deliver, but mostly he was curious as to what they were going to say.

How could you explain something like that?

Even Dean couldn't explain it.

"Do you understand what you saw today?" Caleb asked.

"No."

Dean was surprised at how soft his voice sounded. He couldn't remember a time when he had been so confused. Maybe when his mother and father had died, but everything before six, was a little blurry.

"There are things out there in the world, Dean," Jim explained. "Things that we didn't want you or your brother involved in. Things that can't be explained."

"Like what?"

"That man in your bedroom," Caleb said, laying his hand across Dean's knee. "He was a good person."

"But he broke the window," Dean protested, scrambling to find an argument against their claim.

"He did," Jim agreed, "but there was something or _someone _inside of him that was controlling his actions, his thoughts, and everything about him that made him do that."

Dean arched his head to the side, struggling to make sense of what he was being told. Some of it made sense, but most of it sounded like something out of a cartoon, something that was firmly fiction.

"Why?"

"We don't know," Caleb said, "but these kinds of things, these kinds of _creatures_," he hesitated to use the word _demon_, "have been around for many, many years."

Understanding lit up Dean's face, as he subconsciously scooted closer to the guys, for the security that he needed to feel in that moment.

"Is that why Mommy died?"

"Yes," Caleb said. "One of them caused your Mom to die."

"Oh."

"One thing you have to know, Dean," Jim said, "is that there are many different forms these creatures take. They don't always use a human to do the job, sometimes there are other forms they take."

"We know how to guard against most of them," Caleb said. "But you need to know how to protect _yourself _against them, if one of us isn't here for some reason."

"And Sammy," Dean pointed out. "I need to know how to protect Sammy."

"That's right," Caleb said, "but you don't have to worry about him. We can do that, bud, but when you two are alone, it's good that you'll know how to protect yourselves."

"What about Daddy?"

"A creature killed him, something _not _human. It was animal-like monster that he had been hunting."

His entire family, wiped out by the actions of these creatures that inhabited a world that Dean hadn't had the slightest inkling even existed. It was a hard truth to be reconciled with, especially for someone his age.

"Dean, just know, we'll always be honest with you," Jim said. "Whatever you need to know, we'll tell you."

"When can I learn?"


	13. Chapter 13

While knowing that training him was absolutely essential, the guys were still hesitant to train him with any guns or combat, though they knew that basically consisted of the entire training session he would go through.

Improvising as best he could, Caleb set up a series of beer cans along the fence line, and handed Dean a BB gun, something that still held power and control, but a weapon that would be much kinder on Dean's still-growing bones.

"You see those cans, bud?"

Dean nodded, squinting his eyes at the targets only a few feet from him. "Yeah."

"Okay, keep your eye on them."

Dean nodded, never breaking his focus with the cans, as he weighed the power of the gun in his hand. It was light, but considering what it held inside, it felt ten pounds heavier all of a sudden.

"Now what?"

"Now," Caleb hesitated, before speaking again. "Ease your finger over the trigger."

His heart was pounding in his ribcage as he watched the six-year-old place his finger over the trigger. It was a sight that he never should have been witness to, as he helped Dean properly position the gun.

"Can I shoot it?"

"Not yet. You have to make sure that you have in your sight what you're aiming for. You can't shoot the gun when you're not one hundred percent sure of what you're shooting."

Dean nodded. "The gun is pointed at the cans."

"Okay, good. Now, fire off a shot. _Carefully_."

Watching with bated breath as Dean slowly pressed down on the light trigger, he tried not to think about how wrong it was that a six-year-old was shooting off a gun like that.

The shot went off without a hitch, and to Caleb's complete astonishment, hit the target. For a first timer, Dean had successfully hit his first target.

The gun still had enough rounds in it to finish off the rest of the cans, and Dean, feeling an adrenaline rush from the first go round, eagerly pressed down on the trigger again, eager to finish his work.

By the time all the cans were down on the ground, Dean had fired off all the rounds in the gun. Caleb, finally able to breathe again, relished the smile on Dean's face. It was the first smile he had seen on his face in quite awhile, as he patted him on the shoulder. "Good job."

"Thanks."

Walking back to the house with a spring in his step, Dean swung himself into the kitchen chair, his activity that morning, working up quite an appetite as Caleb prepared sandwiches and soup for him.

"Did you like it?" Caleb asked, sitting across from him, carefully studying Dean's face for any signs of stress or discomfort.

"Yeah! When can I learn more?"

"_Later_," Caleb stressed. "We want to ease you into this _slowly_."

There was no point in pushing training when he would likely be with one of them at all times anyway. The only time when he would need to know any of that, would be when he was at school, or even at a friend's house.

"Okay," Dean groaned. "When can I punch something?"

Caleb laughed, shaking his head. "Let's work on the guns for awhile. This isn't normal, what you're learning, and I want you to have normal, too."

"I know."

Even though he may have known it, Caleb could still see that he was enjoying the high that such an accomplishment had given him, and it was his job to reel him in.

They sat for awhile in silence. Each mulling over their own thoughts, and enjoying their lunch. Dean was the first one to break the silence, as he met Caleb's brown eyes with his hazel ones.

"I don't think Sammy needs to know about this."

Caleb nodded. "I think you're right."

It was bad enough that Dean had been forced into this life, taking along another victim was the last thing he felt like doing.

"And if that demon comes back, I don't want Sammy to be in that room anymore."

"I know."

There had been discussion about what to do about Sam and Dean's room, there had even been talk of moving just to make the kids feel safer. Even Sam had begun having nightmares once in awhile.

"Maybe you can make us another room?"

Caleb chuckled. "Well, maybe it would be better if we just moved to a new house."

It would give him a chance to put up new wards and sigils that this house didn't have, and also give him a chance to add some new additions, as well.

"Really?"

Caleb nodded. "Really."


	14. Chapter 14

The first day of kindergarten. For many kids, it was an exciting, but nerve-wracking time as they adjusted to new friends, and a whole new learning setting. Some handled the change better than others, and some were understandably nervous about being away from home, and the stability there.

For Dean, he still had those normal fears running through his veins, but his fears were also, strangely unique, as he studied the tenseness of his guardians, and how _they _were reacting to the upcoming school year.

He could sense that Caleb and Jim were uneasy about him going to school, but for the most part they tried to keep him out of their arguments about it, and to themselves.

"What if something happens?" Caleb demanded. "A demon _already _broke into the house, almost got Sam."

"But we can't keep them from having normal experiences when they can," Jim pointed out. "We're moving, we're throwing any trail the demon has on us, out the window."

"It's still dangerous," Caleb said. "They could still target Dean, or any class full of kids, because they're vulnerable, they won't know what we know."

Jim got up, pacing the tight space of the kitchen, past the boxes of dishes they had already packed up, and back to face Caleb. "We could arm him, prepare him."

"Are you so willing to risk his safety that you'd still sent him? He doesn't know how to use a knife, and I'm sure that a gun wouldn't be as easy to conceal."

In the end, it was decided that they would pay a little more for the one, small private school in the area, and Caleb would go beforehand and scope the area out, make sure no one was lurking unseen.

He also stayed for the four hours that class was in session, keeping guard in the hallway, ignoring the curious stares of other parents and guardians, who no doubt wondered why he was staying.

When he sneaked a glance in the classroom, though, any of his fears, were erased when he saw the grin on Dean's face, as he helped the teacher pass out drinks and snacks to the other kids.

Helper. Dean had always loved helping, and it was perfect that the teacher had sensed that, and had given him a job to do.

Taking a seat on the bench outside, Caleb leaned back, pressing his head against the wall to wait for the class to end. It was a compromise that had worked for both of them.

That night at dinner, Dean was full of energy, describing his first day of school, and how all the kids, while different, seemed to like him, and the teacher who had made him her special assistant.

"We're glad you had a good time," Jim said, not able to keep back a smile at how ecstatic Dean was. "And you know what?"

"What?" Dean asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

"You'll be able to go to that school when we move to our new house."

"Really?"

"Really."

Wanting some of the attention his brother had claimed, Sam toddled over to his brother's side of the table and shoved a drawing in his hand.

"He made that while you were gone," Jim explained.

"I like it, Sam," Dean said, bending down to give his brother a hug. "Thanks!"

"Yow welcome," Sam said, in typical toddler speak.


	15. Chapter 15

Moving to a new home, a new location when he had been in Blue Earth for so many years, was a daunting task for Jim. It wasn't that he wasn't used to moving around a lot for his hunting jobs, but finding a new home base was something that he hadn't had to contemplate in years.

For Sam, it was an adventure.

For Dean, another reminder of what he had lost. The facets of his life already so precarious, now dealing another blow as he had to relocate to a new town.

At least he could keep the same private school that he had grown to love, and the same friends that he had grown used to.

Packing up and moving wasn't ideal for anyone. It was a strain logistically, emotionally (especially for the boys), and financially, but all that was easily managed, as long as they could have a secure place to call home.

The little town they were moving to wasn't far from Blue Earth, enabling Jim to keep his job, as well as Caleb's. It was only a half hour from Blue Earth, and very secluded, no one knew much about the town, and that's what Jim liked.

"What do you guys think?" Caleb asked, looking out the window at their new, two story home. It wasn't much larger than the one they had been in previously, but the layout was better, more open than the previous one.

"House!" Sam said, pointing excitedly at the structure.

"I like it," Dean said simply.

The house also boasted a backyard big enough for the boys to play in, and for the family to have backyard cookouts during hot summer days.

"It will be an adjustment," Jim warned, "but this house is bigger, it's more open for you kids to run, and it's also safer."

"I like it," Dean said again, resting his chin on the door. "Do Sammy and I have to share a room?"

Initially, Jim and Caleb had put the boys together after John's death to make them both feel more secure and safe, in a world that had constantly changed for both of them.

Now that it had been a year since John had died, and they had settled into a familiar routine, the boys, Dean especially, were feeling more independent.

"Not if you don't want to," Caleb assured him. "But that option is always open."

"I want my own room. Sammy always messes things up," he said, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

"Alright, bud," Caleb said with a laugh. "You got it."

Caleb was also glad for the fresh start, it gave him a chance to install preventative security measures around the place, enabling the kids' safety.

For the stairs, he attached baby gates to the walls so Sam couldn't climb up or down without supervision. For the cupboards, especially ones that housed chemicals, he put locks on them.

Now came the fun part. Decorating the boys' rooms.

Dean, being the superhero fan that he was, wanted all Batman and Spiderman.

Sam, being into trains and other machines like that, wanted a train and car themed room.

It was fun forming their rooms into what they wanted. A small luxury they could have in the face of so much doubt and danger.

"When do we get to sleep in our rooms?" Dean asked, one night.

While their rooms had been undergoing renovations, the guys had made temporary sleeping quarters in the living room. Something the boys thought was fun, but the fun had clearly been wearing off.

"Soon," Jim promised. "Tomorrow night."

Dean smiled. "I can't wait."


	16. Chapter 16

"You'll be in the next room?" Dean asked, looking at Caleb.

"I promise, bud," Caleb assured him, kneeling down beside him at his bed. "And Jim will be down in the basement working, okay?"

Dean nodded. "And Sammy's in the room across from me?"

"Yes."

It was so typical of Dean to want to make sure he knew where everyone was-it was a coping method, and it was also a way to make sure that the people he loved, were safe.

Dean reached underneath him and pulled out a Batman nightlight. "Can you plug this in for me?" Jim had slipped the nightlight to him that day, something to make him feel more at ease in a new home.

"Absolutely. Did Jim give this to you?"

Dean nodded, sucking on his bottom lip. "So I won't be afraid. I'm not," he added, "I just want it on."

Caleb nodded, thinking over his next words. "It's okay to be afraid sometimes, Dean, it's actually healthy."

Dean shook his head defiantly. "Daddy wasn't."

Dean was fiercely protective of his late father-he held onto personal mementos as though they were prized possessions, which in a way, they were.

Caleb was glad that Dean could have that small piece of his father left. He wanted both boys to revel in their parent's memory as much as they possibly could.

"I'm sure even your father was," he gently contradicted. "He was only human, after all."

Dean nodded, though Caleb could tell he was still unsure of it all. "Goodnight," he said sleepily, his little body already curling up on its side to enjoy his sleep.

"Goodnight, bud."

"Thanks for my room."

"You're more than welcome."

Caleb was glad that Dean had that room to call his own. So many things he had no control over, he was glad that Dean could have had a say in where he slept and what it looked like.

His next stop once he had left Dean's room, was to check on Sam in the room across from it. Sam was already asleep, his little chest rising and falling gently.

Smiling, Caleb gently closed the door and went to his office downstairs. The new office housed everything, from Dean's (and soon to be Sam's), school records, to their drawings, and different files related to their cases.

"Someone made a jail escape," Jim said the next morning over coffee.

"Sam?" Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep, found him wandering around the hall this morning when I got up."

"Think it's time we get him a toddler bed?"

"Yeah."

All in all, their first night in the house had gone smoothly. Sam hadn't made a peep, neither had Dean. The nightlight had remained plugged in, and his slumber had been peaceful.

"Hi," Dean said, leading Sam down the stairs by his hand.

"Morning," Caleb said, getting up and helping Sam into his high chair. "How did you sleep?"

"Good," Dean shrugged, sliding into his customary seat next to Sam. "Sammy liked his new room, right?"

Beside him, Sam nodded. "Room!"

The guys chuckled, shaking their heads in bemusement. "I'm glad it worked out."

"It did."


	17. Chapter 17

"Show me how to make a fist," Caleb said one afternoon.

Dean had proved to be a natural at shooting off the guns, so Caleb had, hesitantly, moved on to harder, hand-to-hand combat.

"Like this?" Dean asked, making his best approximation of a fist as he showed Caleb.

"Close," Caleb assured him, when he saw his face fall slightly. "Here, let me show you."

Gently gripping Dean's hand, he angled his wrist down into the proper position. It was hard to perfect the positions on yourself, but when he was teaching a child, it made it all that much harder.

"Like this?" Dean asked, looking up at him for his approval.

"Good. Now, punch the bag and show me what you can do."

This was Dean's favorite part of the afternoon-he loved whaling on the punching bag in the basement. It released all of his built up anger, and gave him an outlet for when he was frustrated.

After a few minutes of watching Dean punch the bag, Caleb moved in front of him. Dean immediately backed off like he had been taught.

"How did I do?"

Caleb smiled. "Excellent job, dude."

Dean simply beamed with pride the way he did whenever one of the adults offered him a compliment or gave him an important task. "What's next?"

"You want to work on your aim with the gun?"

"Sure."

The boys loved it when the guys took time off work to indulge them in some activities. The Church Jim was working at, was offering a family day that Sunday, complete with a petting zoo and face painting games.

"Do you want to ride the horse?" Caleb asked, looking at Dean.

"That's for babies," Dean said, wrinkling his nose. "Maybe Sammy does, though."

In Caleb's arms, Sam nodded.

It was a nice change from their usual, scheduled routine. It was nice to see the boys interact with kids their own age, and see them enjoy regular games and fun.

"Can I have a clown face?" Dean asked,

"Sure, bud," Caleb said, walking over to the face painting station with him. "You have to hold still, though."

"I know," Dean said, with a roll of his eyes.

Once the artists was done with his work, he spun Dean around to face his family. Sam, not knowing that it was his brother, immediately let out a wail, while Caleb chuckled at Dean's drastically altered appearance.

"Sammy," Dean said, looking startled at his brother's reaction. "It's _me_." Reaching out, he tickled his brother's neck, something that he always did to tease Sam.

That seemed to appease Sam, who's tears calmed down a little.

"What do you think Sam would like to do?" Caleb asked.

"He likes animals," Dean said, "maybe he'd like to pet the goats?"

It was worth a shot-carrying him over to the animal pen, Caleb leaned foreword, allowing Sam the chance to reach inside and pet one of the animals.

Giggling, Sam reached inside and gently pet the eager animals.

"What are you guys doing?" Jim asked, appearing for the first time that afternoon.

"Petting the animals," Dean said, "Sammy likes them."

"I see that. Do you think he'll turn into one?"

"Yes," Dean said with a laugh. "He looks like one, anyway."


	18. Chapter 18

With marshmellows roasting in the fire on sticks, and the boys both seated around them, Caleb honestly felt like they couldn't have been closer to normal than they were right then.

The weather-a hot August evening, one of the last for awhile, was perfect for a cookout and a sleepover in the tents. They had purchased those tents awhile back in case they actually went through with their plans of attempting a camp out.

Now that Sam was three and Dean seven, the guys felt a little better with attempting it. It had been two years since John had died, and while the boys, especially Dean, missed John, they were thriving.

Sam had started pre-school, and Dean was thrilled with his school, and with _his _friends, as he called them. Sometimes, he would suffer from nightmares related to his parent's deaths, but those were few and far between the good times he had.

They, Caleb, Jim, Dean and Sam were a family, along with Bobby and all the friends they adopted into their lives for better or worse. It truly takes a village to raise a family, and they were learning that lesson well as they forged ahead.

* * *

**This is the last chapter of "Missing." A sequel will be posted as soon as I can get to it! Thank you so much to each and every person who either reviewed, followed or favorited this story. It means the world to me!**


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